and she'll dance in the flames of love and life
by i am tasting the stars
Summary: The little Lily surrounded in expectations of Roses. The world seems to want her, to need her. It's been a long time since someone has seen it; you should hope it's you who witnesses her. She'll turn your world in circles and you won't be able to do anything but enjoy it. -She's so beautiful, she's so amazing, she's so brilliant; she's so out of your league. /LorcanLily/-
1. glittering fantasies lilyluna

and she'll dance in the flames of love and life

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_glittering fantasies_

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**The little Lily surrounded in expectations of Roses. The world seems to want her, to need her. It's been a long time since someone has seen it; you should hope it's you who witnesses **_**her**_**. She'll turn your world in circles and you won't be able to do anything but enjoy it.**

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**To those who wish or have ever wished that you were something different, something beautiful. Something exotic and magnificent; something more than you ever thought you could be. I've wished that, I still do.**

Jupiter, Saturn, and Venus leisurely spin around the softly gleaming biggest, brightest, globe. She sits beside it, bathed in the warm light, watching. It's her father's old set, and to be honest, she quite likes it. She favors it over her new and improved set of Space Spheres. Hers is complicated and intense, multiple solar systems, loads of new planets, and the terrifyingly bright light of the center spheres. It's not like the inviting subtle yellow glow of the Space Spheres up here long forgotten in the attic (or whatever they might have been called twenty years ago).

She likes to sit in the attic of their house whenever she has a moment of freedom (when she's not playing Quidditch, drawing, with friends and family, or at Hogwarts). The attic from the main part of the house connects to the top of the tower where Teddy's room resides. Sometimes she stomps and bangs around at the top of the tower just to get a rise out of her god-brother whenever he stays the night (he's really rather easy to rile up, his hair turns red and black while his eyes turn an odd sort of glowing yellow as he shouts and grumps like a girl on her monthly cycle). Only her father and James Sirius know where she frequently disappears to; they're good secret keepers.

She shares her secrets with Louis and Lucy, but not all of them. They wouldn't understand; they wouldn't understand her never ending hunger for knowledge of the past, of the Marauders' War (The War Against Voldemort I) or Lily's Time. They'd never be able to comprehend her unsatisfied thirst for information and understanding of the War of the Golden (The War Against Voldemort II) and the Era of Chaos.

She's desperate for the stories of her Uncle Fred, Remus John, Nymphadora Cassiopeia, Sirius Orion, Regulus Arcturus (Kreacher was forbidden to tell her details, he died before she was old enough to comprehend), and every other living and deceased warrior. She longs to have awareness, of her and her siblings' name sakes (more detail) and of her father and his friends (their bond runs deeper than that of even marriage. Sometimes she sees her mother, grandmother, grandfather, Uncle George, and Uncle Bill look on at them, a funny sort of expression painted on their faces. She knows that nothing will ever separate them, not now, not ever.). She's well aware of her father's horrifying nightmares (she's heard her Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron arguing with her father about silencing himself.). She's not sure she could ever live through something so horrendous, so she takes care to do as her father bids, even if it means letting Rose and Molly win (Lucy'll get them for her, but she'd let them win even if Lucy didn't retaliate.). She'll do anything just to please him, if only to see his brilliant smile, the slight crinkling around his glimmering viridian eyes, as lovely as the day he was born.

Okay, so she tends to neglect Herbology and Transfiguration (that's more James Sirius's style anyway, and who needs Herbology when you're going to be the biggest magical historian ever?), and she hates History of Magic because Binns is the only one who could ever possibly make _magical history_ boring. The only reason she has good marks in DADA, Potions, and Charms is because she seems to have a natural affinity for them. (Everyone whispers of Lily Evans Charms talents and her Potions mastery at age eighteen. They talk of her father's Defense Against the Dark Arts brilliance; but they also talk of her exquisite mind and love of history, so at least she has some individuality.) But that's who she is, and everyone knows this, if they don't she'll pound it into their skull; because she doesn't want to be an auror, or a healer, or professor, or a Quidditch player, or anything else. She wants to be a magical historian, a writer, an illustrator; that's who she is and she won't let anyone else tell her otherwise.

**Excuse my dreadfully awful writing. I figured I'd post this and give it a shot. No flaming, it'll turn you into an arsonist. Comments?**

**-AMA }~~~~~~**


	2. i fairy lights of the moon lilylouis

_fairy lights of the moon_

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**Backyards can be magical places; but that's only if you let yourself believe. /LilyLouis/**

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She twirls under the stars, her head tilted toward the sky. The twinkling stars of the universe reflect in her eyes, or is it the other way? He's never quite sure what's bigger, the magic of her, or the mysteries of the universe; they're both brilliant, either way.

She shines in the moon and the sun, her glow is irresistible. He craves her, he wants her, he loves her, that's all there is to it. She's magnificent, you know, with the magic she is. Everything she does is magic, everything she is is magic. The world wouldn't exist without her, that's all he knows as he watches her dance in the coolness of another endless summer night. It could all end right now, he realizes this, but it hasn't, so he savors all he can experience. He hopes she'll keep dancing forever and more, underneath the willows by the pond in the garden, wild and unrestrained.

Her feet sweep in an arch across the grass; she twirls, the green strands twisting beneath her delicate toes, her (ever cliché) white sundress floating around her knees. The fireflies swirl around her and only make everything more than anything has ever been before, if that makes any sense at all, anymore.

He longs to dance with her under the skies, but he's not much of a dancer; he's never been. There is not a moment now where he doesn't wish he had been; a dancer and a dreamer, that is. But he's all cynical smiles and skeptical thoughts, so it probably won't change. He dreams it does.

As he watches her dance beneath the stars and the moon in the garden surrounded by fireflies and the fairy lights strung up in the trees, he thinks that one day, just maybe, he might be dancing with her too.

**Another chapter, I've had some of this written for a while. I also (if anyone's reading this at all) have a question about a story concerning Helga Hufflepuff and Harry Potter. It's a oneshot and this is the gist of it from what I can rememeber; Harry, Hermione, and Ron are in Defense against the Dark Arts and Harry And Hermione are giving a presentation or a demonstration or something of the sort, when Hermine casts a spell or does an experimental thing and changes Harry into a girl while also sending him back to the Founders' Time. He wakes and ****Salazar Slytherin** finds him and become friends. Stuff happens that I can't remember and then Harry comes back. When Harry returns to the present time he explains all this to Hermione and Ron who in turn tell him that he hasn't actually been gone for as long as he thinks. Hermione put the facts together and finds out that he's actually Helga Hufflepuff ending with Harry vowing never to let Hermione use him for experiments. If you know of it or what happened to it, review or PM me.

**Comments?  
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**-AMA }~~~~~~  
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	3. ii do you see what i see? lilyalbus

_do you see what i see?_

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**What do you see when you hear our names? What do you see when you look at our faces? /AlbusSeverusLilyLuna/**

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"Alb's, Alb's, don't go 'way. Stay." Her speech is slurred with sleep. Her pleads are useless, he wouldn't leave even if she begged him to. She's his baby; he dreads graduation because he'll be away from her. For now though, he enjoys the time he has left with her. Spring break'll end soon, his world might stop spinning, he hopes it doesn't.

She'll be at Hogwarts for two more years; she doesn't know how she'll survive without him. Her protector, her sword, her shield, her wand; she's not sure what she'll do then, when he leaves of course, so she tries to forget.

Harry James Potter watches them, a sad sort of smile forming on his lips. His eyes shine with something more than sadness, almost a nostalgia, but he wasn't alive then, so it can't be certain. He slips his hand in his pocket, his fingers curling around something; leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom, thinking. He wishes he knew someone who would be able to see what he sees, but he doesn't (he does, but they don't exist on this plane anymore.) so he lets the wistfulness that comes with that though slowly drift away.

She's fifteen; she shouldn't _need_ him anymore, at least not so much, but she does. She doesn't think that'll ever change; she's not sure she wants it to, that's kind of scary.

Harry James Potter pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket; it was old and worn, crumpled within his fist. He shuts his eyes tightly, trying to will away whatever awaits beyond his eyelids. Letting the photograph flutter to the floor, he soundlessly walks away, a torrent of silent tears making their way down his cheeks.

"Sev'rus, Sev'rus, never leave." (Sometimes they call each other by their middle names; it's just something they do, only them.) She shifted slightly so that her head was pillowed against his bare chest (that's how he always slept, no shirt and a pair of boxers or pajama pants), an arm wrapped around his torso. Her hazy green eyes (same as his) partially open, staring at him briefly, before closing. His right hand rested on the side of her head, tangled in her mass of red, blazing curls.

The next morning he slips from the covers and out of her bed unheard; drifting his way toward the door, stopping when he heard a crinkle and felt the paper beneath his foot. Stooping down to pick it up he looked at it, his emerald eyes widening marginally. He dropped it and fled to his bedroom, collapsing on his bed; the thoughts whirring through his head at unimaginable speeds.

The photograph had landed upside down, in elegant script it read _"Severus and Lily, Hogwarts, 2__nd__ year, 1972"_, it lay beside a carving in the floorboards, the carving read _"Lily Luna and Albus Severus", _the infinity symbol engraved just below the names.


	4. iii wishing on a sapphire sun lilyscor

_wishing on a sapphire sun_

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**She's not worthy of him, she tries to tell him. He doesn't listen to her. /LilyLunaScorpius/**

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Your name is Lily Luna, they say you're the best of the best, but you're not. You can't be, because he is. You may have hair of fire and emerald eyes that light up the world (you're Harry Potter's daughter, too; and those aren't your words, for the record), but he has brilliant platinum hair, a shining smile, milky white skin, and icy blue eyes imbedded deep within a pure silver of the moon. His eyes light up the universe, which is only one of the infinite reasons he's so much more than you; but if you ever cared (or dared) to tell him, he'd disagree.

He thinks the world of you (you don't know this, or anything else in this part of your kinda sorta love story right now, after all, you're just you.), he thinks he can only ever even dream of holding your hand, so you take his. He thinks he'll never be able to compare to you (the opposite is true, at least that's how you see it.); he says you're an explosion; you say he's a supernova. He says you sparkle like the stars; you say he shines like the sun.

He wants so desperately to hold you, to kiss you, to love you, uninhibited; but he's your brother's best friend. (Albus Severus would kill anybody who even dared to so much as look at his baby sister in the wrong way, _he's _totally dead, although he seems to know and not exactly care. You hate your brother sometimes.)

He's two years older than you; he's a Ravenclaw, you're a slippery, sly snake of Slytherin (you like to draw out your s's and pretend you can speak to snakes; once upon a time people could do that. You know your father can, but he's famous for doing the impossible.)

You're Queen of the Scene, and everyone knows it; you're ruler of the hierarchy that is the house of thy noble Salazar Slytherin (it doesn't matter that you're a girl, you need no king and they can see it, so no one challenges you; that's the way you like it.). You have Adonis Zabini and Octavian Nott (they're the next powerful) bowing at your feet and catering to your every whim, you smile. You're glad that _he _isn't bowing to you, _that_ would have ruined everything.

Behind your brother's back you kiss him; once, twice, thrice. He smiles serenely into your kiss, moving his mouth slowly and sweetly against yours. His pale, elegant fingers twist into your hair and yours tangle in his silky blonde locks, tongues melding in the hot caverns of your mouths; the heated passion is all you've ever dreamed of, and so much more (such a cliché line, but it fits).

He tastes of vanilla and hot butterbeer on a cold winter's eve. He thinks you taste of strawberries and a cold glass of lemonade in the middle of a sunny summer's day and of all his dreams brought to life (he's into romance and he's not trying to be, he _just is_).

This romance may not last past your Hogwarts days, but you'll enjoy it and savor every moment you'll have with him from now until forever. He's all you want right now, so you'll never want more until you think you might need something different; but right now you _don't, _so it's okay. And you'll keep on loving him despite your brother ('cause he doesn't matter, not now, not now that you've finally gotten what you've waited two years for).


	5. iv incandescent illusions lilylorcan

_incandescent illusions_

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**She's so beautiful, she's so amazing, she's so brilliant; she's so out of your league. /LorcanLily/**

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Baby, she's on fire, and you'll never catch up no matter how hard you try. You're not Lysander, you wish you were though, because he can catch up to her and you can't.

You want so much to be with her, you want her, you want her so bad; you want her so much it sends aches into your chest.

She haunts your dreams night after night after endless night; her flaming red hair fluttering in breeze beneath the sun in your fantasies (get your mind out of the gutter, _thank you_. You're more of a romantic and a traditionalist). Sometimes you wish Lysander never existed, that he was never born; but soon after that thought occurs you're immediately ashamed that you could ever have such a Merlin forsaken thought as that. He's all you've got who isn't her or your parents.

She's the queen of everything, that's not something you can ever compare to; Lysander can, he's king. You hate your twin, you hate him so much (you do love him, don't you ever believe for one second that you don't), he has what you don't and never will. You don't know what he has that she sees; you crave whatever it is that he has.

She's captured your heart in a way no other has ever before, your father understands; he used to like a different witch, he was about to propose to this witch. Then he met Luna Lovegood, and everything changed. You father says the moment he laid eyes on your mother; her face was imprinted within his mind forever. He had walked up to Luna Lovegood, she looked up at him with those big, dreamy, blue eyes and he _melted. _That's how you feel whenever Lysander brings Lily into the Ravenclaw common room with him and her gaze meets yours.

You'll never talk to her though; she's out of your league. She's so firry and bright that you can't just go up and be with her, so you tag along with Lysander (the sun and the sunglasses). She may be a year younger that you and your twin, but she seems to be eons older, _he _can see it, too. _He _realizes what he has; you wish he didn't, so that he would let her go.

You've spent your entire life wishing you were Lysander, and if you ever stop loving her you're not sure what you'll do; because you've built your whole world around her.


End file.
